Smellershot Week 2012
by Herpestidae
Summary: A bunch of Drabbles proclaiming my love for all things Smellershot.
1. Nerves

Hello, and welcome to my undying affection for the best pairing ever: Smellershot!

Prompt 1 is "Nerves," and me being the scientific mind that I am... this came out.

* * *

First battle. Her eyes tell her that the soldiers who killed her parents, who destroyed her village, are here to destroy her new home. Jet runs ahead, brandishing his swords. Her legs tell her to run the other way.

_His_ hand tells her that she doesn't have to worry.

Her throat tells her it wants to stop yelling, but her ears inform her of the insults still being thrown her way. She's not going to take it. Not anymore. Her hand wants to form a fist.

_His_ hand tells her that she doesn't have anything to prove.

Her eyes burn for her fallen leader. Her head doesn't want to lift. She could have done something, anything, instead of just watching.

_His_ hand tells her that _he's_ there.

Her lips search out _his_. Her nose takes in _his_ scent. Her fingers run through _his_ hair.

_His_ hands tell her that _he_ is hers,and hers alone.


	2. Lonesome

Longshot's sharp eyes scanned the clearing, waiting for something to leave the safety of the tree line and take the bite. He was patient, an arrow already nocked, the bowstring slack.

A bush rustled. Something ran toward the nuts on the leaf.

He'd almost drawn his bow when he realized the something was human.

Cautiously, he rose, purposely stepping on a twig to alert the newcomer to his presence.

The little boy's head snapped toward him, and Longshot held up his hands to show he wasn't armed. He took his pouch of jerky from around his waist and showed it to the kid, who practically ran to get some.

Judging from the rags he wore, he'd been on his own for months, and it showed. He was small. Skinny. Probably malnourished.

Longshot brought the kid back to base, where Patch gave him a once-over and declared that there were no broken bones or organ damage. No burns. Just hunger.

So they fed him, and asked questions that he obviously didn't want to answer. He only shrunk back, curled in on himself, until he was finally left alone with his plate of food.

Longshot didn't know if it was pity or curiosity that brought him to the other boy's side. He squatted down next to the lad, silent and waiting, until the plate had been licked clean.

"Longshot," the boy finally said. "That's what they called you. It's cuz you shoot arrows right?"

Longshot nodded.

"That's not the name your mom gave you, is it?"

Longshot shook his head.

"Am I gonna get a name?"

Longshot nodded.

"What if I want to keep mine?"

"You don't want to," Longshot said.

It wasn't a question. It wasn't a guess. It was a statement of pure fact. The boy looked down at his empty plate, and Longshot's arm found its way to the sobbing boy's back. His voice echoed once more.

"It only reminds you of the family you don't have."


	3. Shift

Longshot wasn t the most talkative guy in the world, but Smellerbee noticed that more and more, he got quieter as he got older. Not that he needed to speak to anyone to get his point across.

But then their first child was born, and he became a chatterbox.

Longshot still rarely ever spoke to her, but to their daughter? He told stories about spirits and monsters, about the Avatar and the adventures they had with Jet.

She wasn t sure what had caused the change, and the question gnawed at her for months, until she finally came out with it.

The answer was worse than she thought.

Whenever I speak, I hear my father s voice. 


	4. Cross

This one has no specific point in the timeline.

* * *

Sometimes, she doesn't look at him.

Sometimes, she glares whenever he's in the room.

Sometimes, she just looks at him with a blank expression.

Most of the time, she punches him.

When Longshot got her mad, the one thing Smeller bee never did was talk.

He appreciated the irony.


	5. Change

It was decided that the new kid would bunk with Longshot for the night, since they got along the best. Longshot noted that something about the arrangement made the small boy uncomfortable, but attributed it to the new venue.

After three nights of sleeping as far away from each other as possible, Longshot and the new kid were called to a tribe meeting. Jet stood atop a crate and held his swords aloft as he announced that everyone would be receiving new clothes. He pried it open, and bundles of cloth fell out, of different hues, sizes, and textures. Longshot held the boy back, as twenty other small children- and more than a few big ones- fell upon the catch, and it eventually devolved into an all-out brawl for the finer pieces of clothing.

Longshot's tunic was getting worn, but his first priority was getting clothes for his new charge, who had yet to replace the rags he'd arrived in. He grabbed the smallest pants and top he could find, then got his hands on a nicely-sized red vest for himself and took off back toward his hut. It would do for now; Maybe he'd find something else when the fury died down somewhat.

As they entered the threshold, Longshot tossed the shirt and pants over to his bunkmate and began stripping off his ratty tunic. The other boy shrank away, blushing. Longshot was used to the shyness at this point- the boy even had to go to the "bathroom" by himself- so he shrugged and turned his back to allow the other tenant some semblance of privacy.

After he'd exchanged his tunic for the vest, he waited another thirty seconds for the sounds of shuffling on the other side to stop.

"H- hey, Longshot?"

He turned. The boy was holding the loose waist of his new pants up to his bellybutton.

"I think these are a bit too big."

A bit of quick thinking led Longshot to a solution. He ripped the already loose hem off of his old tunic, tied a knot to demonstrate his intention, and threw it across the room.

Instinctively, the boy let go of his pants to catch it.

The pants fell.

The boy… was not a boy.


End file.
